The Flame Goes Out
by Can'tStopImagining
Summary: Magenta says goodbye to Columbia.


A/N: Sorry, this has been done like a hundred times before, but I needed to get it out. I keep being reminded how much the ending of this movie has haunted me for as long as I can remember knowing it. This disregards any of the sequels, and is an awkward mish-mash of movie and stage show.

It had been over in a matter of seconds, and she had found herself laughing. A horrible, bitter sound that echoed through the silence of the dark, cold room and caught them both off guard. Riff had spoken and she'd responded in the same joyful tone she always used when talking about home, but as soon as the Earthlings had departed, she had fallen to her knees, letting out a cry that rattled the walls and caused her brother to cover his ears in distress.

"We must go," he whispered, approaching her as though approaching an only gently kindled fire; frightened that she might go out, or worse yet, rage through the rest of the room, destroying everything in her path. She felt like she might like to do that, if she only had the energy to.

She touched a shaking hand to the body. It was cold and still, and she was reminded of nights where she had cursed such coldness as it sprung itself on her, thrusting its hands against her warm skin and scraping ice-like toes down the length of her legs. She had always been so vile to the child. Now, she bundled her closer, cold skin limp against her own. Her cheeks were ferociously red with anger, her eyes dark, and when she looked up at her brother, she could feel her whole body tense. He looked so pleased with himself. And why wouldn't he be? Hadn't this been what he longed for all the while? He had never delighted in her company at all, not like she had. If anything, he detested the girl. He'd had a jealous streak since they were just small children. She recalled him yanking the heads off of all her dolls, kicking over the boys at school's toy soldiers. He had never been good at sharing, and he had always felt like that was what she forced him to do. Share. Share his sister. No, Riff didn't share.

"You killed her," she finally ground out. She was absently stroking the girl's hair, clinging to her like she had those poor lifeless rag dolls with their limbs torn off.

He stared at her, his lip curled into a slight smile. He wasn't remorseful. Just as she thought, he was enjoying this, enjoying the pain it was bringing to her. She had always loved him more than anybody else in the world, despite everything, but now she felt nothing. Her heart ached for the girl she had shared a room with all those months. The girl she had shunned for night after night in her brother's arms. The same brother who saw her life as meaningless. He had pulled the trigger without any hesitation, like it had all been a part of his plan.

He had wanted her dead just as much as he had Frank.

"My darling, we must leave," he said, with a calmness that made bile rise in the back of her throat.

"You killed her," she repeated, each word spat with venom, as her gaze moved back to the child's pale face. She had always had such a pinkness about her. Pink, rosy cheeks. Bright, large eyes. Plump, pink lips. Now, she was white. So very white.

He knelt beside her, and she felt him touch her hand, her stomach churning at the unexpected contact. She had always sought comfort in his touch, the gentleness of his fingers, his lips, his every movement around her. Now, it made her skin crawl.

"It was an accident. Please, sister, we must leave now. There is nothing more we can do for her."

She shook her head, fighting back tears, cradling Columbia's lifeless body against hers. She had grown accustomed to the nights where the child had bad dreams, had slept snuggled against her. But she had never seen her so still. Even in sleep, she was constantly moving. The stillness made it all the more real. She was gone. _She's gone_. Magenta continued to shake her head, letting the tears spill down her cheeks as she rocked back and forth, Columbia held tightly against her chest.

"Magenta," Riff's voice felt miles away, "Magneta listen to me. We must go home. We must. Come on."

She dipped to press her lips to Columbia's ice cold forehead, then her nose. She had always protested when she did the same to her – or worse still, to her lips, as she had started to do towards the end – but now she longed for that child-like intimacy. She was like a child in almost every aspect. Frank had used her, ravished her innocence and complete trust, and thrown her away when he was done with her. And even then, she had loved him. She had watched him kill Eddie, and _even then _she had given him nothing but her love. Her pure, unconditional love. And he'd ignored her. In those final moments, when she realised that he was going to die, and that he showed no remorse for any of the things he had put her through... even then, _even then_, she had loved him. She had given her life for him. For a man who couldn't have cared less about her. For a man who had done nothing but hurt her from the moment she met him.

And now. Now she was dead.

"Genta..."

She shook her head. Her brother had never understood. He had never had anyone besides her, and that was how he liked it. He had disliked Columbia from the moment he met her, and that dislike had developed into obsessional hatred the more time she spent with his sister. He would have pulled the trigger again, given half the chance. He would have always pulled that trigger. The thought made Magenta's head spin.

His fingers made contact with her chin, forcing her to turn her head to look at his. He was stroking her face, rubbing away her tears as he always had when they were children. She wanted to be sick. She tugged away from him, and he moved again, closer. His fingers gripped her jaw with their full strength, forcing her to stare at him.

"It's time to go."


End file.
